Exactly, re: On Chesil Beach (not that, as you know, I *loved* the book).

There’s something creepy about this ha-ha-funny “award” that’s even creepier than Mr. Blackwell’s (or whatever his name was) annual “Worst Dressed List”. Is it merely an expression of the biological limits of literary style that this “Bad Sex” thing is usually given to male writers, or is some sort of thinly-veiled Puritanism at work? While admitting that some of the razzed passages have been awful indeed (Tom Wolfe’s still echoes), some were not at all, or were clearly intended as satire, and McEwan, whatever else his flaws are, can’t be bashed as an inept stylist.

Maybe they should re-title the prize “The Sex Is Bad Awards” and tattoo big red A’s on the guilty writers’ writing hands.